


Five Times the Sun Gods Bothered Icarus at Work (+ One Time they Didn't)

by odiko_ptino



Series: Modern AU [12]
Category: Greek and Roman Mythology
Genre: Dog Walking, Gen, Hyacinthus (mentioned), Library, M/M, discussions of disney's hercules, flower shop, planetarium - Freeform, retail job
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-16
Updated: 2018-12-16
Packaged: 2019-09-20 12:33:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 10,616
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17022708
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/odiko_ptino/pseuds/odiko_ptino
Summary: Just what the title says!





	1. The First Time: The Coffee Shop

Icarus is taking four classes this term; the standard for a full-time student. He also signed up for a handful of extracurricular activities, not many, but enough to keep him involved. He’s discreetly in the student LGBTQ+ club, though he doesn’t often speak up. And of course, astronomy club, which is the thing he lives for every week. 

He also has five separate jobs, that require his efforts at various times of the day/week. Between the five of them, Icarus manages to make enough money to keep his monthly bills in check, as well as taking a chunk off of the cost of tuition. He’s not rich, for sure, but frankly, it’s enough for him to keep his head above water (a phrase that’s always made him shudder, for some reason), and not burden his family with debt.

So many jobs, classes and extracurriculars requires Icarus to keep a detailed schedule on his refrigerator so he can keep track of where he’s supposed to be and when.

Tragically, this becomes his undoing, as certain other individuals also consult this schedule at their leisure to determine how and where to find him and maximize their pestering.

—————————-

The coffee shop is one of his big earners. It’s the reason he stays on working at The Big Bean, even though the job is more stressful than he would have thought. Icarus works there in the afternoon on Monday, after his European history class; and mornings on Tuesdays, Thursdays and Saturdays. It’s a Thursday morning when the sun gods arrive.

Icarus looks up from where he’s restocking filters and groans aloud. Naturally, he’s the only one working the front at the moment.

Helios saunters over to the counter, grinning broadly at him. “Oi, can we get some service, here?” he shouts, unnecessarily loud.

Slumping in resignation, Icarus shuffles over to them. “Good morning, and welcome to the Big Bean. How can I serve you today?”

Both the gods snort at that, Helios nudging Apollo before leering at Icarus.

“Well, I can come up with a few ideas, Mop-Head… let’s start by bringing that pretty face of yours over here for a kiss, hmm?”

Icarus groans again. “Can you just be serious for once-“

Helios ignores him. “Then, you can take off those silly-looking clothes…”

“I think he looks rather dapper in that apron,” Apollo interjects, a slight quirk to his lips indicating his amusement but giving no clue if he’s serious about the apron. 

“True. And the little cap is cute,” Helios concedes. “All right, so, naked except for the apron and cap-“

Face flushing crimson, Icarus hisses at them: “You guys, I’m working right now! You have to cut it out or I’ll get fired!”

Neither of them look impressed. “So what? You have four other jobs,” Helios points out.

“I need the money,” Icarus pleads. “Can’t you please just – order something?”

Apollo sighs. “Very well. It’s breakfast-time for you, correct?”

“It’s… yeah, I mean, it’s morning, so…”

“Then I’ll have barley bread and wine, with olives and figs.”

Icarus sighs. “We serve coffee, tea, and those pastries there,” he points at the display window, featuring sugary breakfast pastries.

Apollo sighs again, more heavily this time. “I’m beginning to see the source of your nutritional deficiencies. These will be addressed.”

“We have Greek Mountain Tea. Maybe you’d like that?” Icarus suggests desperately. 

The god waves his hand. “Very well. With a teaspoon of honey added.”

While Icarus hurries to make the tea, Helios peruses the baked goods. “What’s this one?” he asks, pointing to an item. 

Icarus looks over. “Uh… caramel and cinnamon roll.”

Helios nods. “I’ll have 1200.”

Icarus gapes incredulously. “H-hahh?!”

“You and your sweet tooth,” Apollo says to Helios.

“Yeah, what can I say? It’s always been my favorite.”

“You want 1200? One-two-zero-zero?” Icarus presses.

“Standard sacrificial amount,” Helios says.

“We don’t… have that many? Like, in the entire store? And it’s not a sacrifice, for- you’re paying for this, right? Please tell me you have money!”

They both give him blank stares. Icarus starts to hyperventilate as he debates how he’s going to deflect them, then they both snicker.

“Relax, Mop-Head. We know how to buy things.” Helios slaps a wadded-up ball of bills on the counter. “Now gimme my roll!” 

Icarus shakily sets the tea in its paper cup down for Apollo and retrieves the cinnamon roll. These guys are not improving his anxiety.

When he sets the roll on its napkin on the counter, Helios darts his hand out, grabs Icarus’s wrist and pulls him forward to plant a kiss on his cheek. “You’re such a dork, Mop-Head,” he says with a wink and a grin, reaching up to flick at Icarus’s cap, knocking it at an angle over his eyes.

Both gods take their goods and begin to walk out of the store. “Catch ya later, kiddo!” Helios calls behind him.

“We’ll be sure to discuss your state of undress again later, when you’re off-shift,” Apollo adds, shutting the door behind them.

The wadded-up bills cover the amount needed – which is interesting, since he hadn’t told them the price, and they didn’t ask. Icarus is putting the change in the tip jar, when he realizes the jar is nearly overflowing with glittering Greek coins. The old ones, drachmas and obols with ancient Greek gods printed on them. Icarus wonders if Helios and Apollo are on any of them. The coins are totally useless to him, but they make him smile, and he packs them carefully in his bag to take home and examine later.


	2. The Second Time: The Flower Shop

Icarus really shouldn’t be spending his precious time working at the flower shop. The pay is very minimal and it doesn’t do much for him in a scholarly or professional sense. There’s just not a lot of benefit to doing it. 

But he stays there, working every Sunday and at odd free moments during the week, to help the elderly couple running the shop, mainly because it’s peaceful and interesting. The smell is wonderful: floral scents and warm air hit Icarus in the face every time he walks in the shop. In the greenhouse attached to the back of the building, the smell is even stronger, and damp potting soil as well, which he finds soothing. Most of his work involves bringing stock up to the front for the elderly owners, repotting some of the live plants, and hauling around the heavy pots and bags of soil. The old lady often brings in food and cookies for Icarus, which he isn’t too proud to take home with him. If she ever finds out how much he loves strawberry shortcake, he’s going to end up gaining twenty pounds, he’s sure. The old man tells him sometimes about the exotic places he’s gone, and the seeds he’s brought back. He even created a hybrid flower. 

Very interesting, and very peaceful…. Most of the time.

Sometimes, like today, it skews much further towards interesting than peaceful. Icarus walks through the greenhouse carrying an enormous armload of cut flowers, with the intent of taking them to the workbench to wrap them into bouquets, when he sees Apollo standing there, gently touching the delicate petals of a hyacinth in a brightly painted pot. 

Icarus slows to a stop and falters, uncertain what to say. In ordinary circumstances, he would have asked Apollo what the hell he’s doing here; or asked if the god didn’t have some “sun duties” to attend to instead of bothering Icarus; or some other sarcastic thing. But these flippant remarks are inappropriate in the face of Apollo’s continued grief over losing Hyacinthus, carried over the millennia. Apollo has said before that a few thousand years is as nothing to a god; to him, the young man’s death is recent and the sorrow only just barely losing the fresh sharp edge. He remembers very clearly sitting on the hillsides of Greece with Hyacinthus, wrestling and singing with him, kissing him. Revelations like these make Icarus feel small, insignificant and sad, inviting his depression to take over.

“Umm,” he begins, with no clear idea what he might say next. As it happens, Apollo spares him from making a fool of himself.

The god kisses his own fingertips and brushes them against the hyacinth, before turning to Icarus. His face, as usual, is perfectly composed – but at the sight of Icarus, his expression lightens noticeably and a small smile graces his lips. 

“Icarus. What a pleasant sight.” Apollo takes one step towards him and pauses, taking Icarus in. The god tilts his head slightly, looking Icarus up and down, bringing a faint color to his cheeks. 

“Uh… what are you..?” Icarus asks, suddenly feeling shy.

“You look – exceptionally handsome like that. With your arms filled with springtime flowers of all colors.” Apollo holds up his hand, using his thumb and forefinger in an L-shape to… measure Icarus? Maybe? Icarus isn’t an artist, he has no idea, but the attention makes his blush intensify. 

Apollo is still talking, as though to himself. “Yes… perhaps seated – no, kneeling? No. Standing. Wearing a short tunic – perhaps the low-girdled chiton. Hmm. Yes.” The god walks slowly around Icarus, taking in a different angle. “Some flowers in your hair as well… Icarus, I’d like to paint you like this. You make a lovely composition.”

Icarus resists the urge to bury his face in the flowers. “But I’m on shift right now,” is all he can manage. 

Apollo considers himself to be sex on legs – an attractiveness and appeal that speaks for itself. Icarus has found himself far less impressed by his open attempts at seduction, and much more interested in the Apollo that’s revealed in moments like these, when he shows his real personality: fussy and creative.

Apollo nods. “Of course. After your shift, then. It will give me time to collect my oils, my brushes… any other interesting props I can find.” 

Okay, and to be fair, Apollo talking about oils and brushes in his Apollo-voice is suggesting something more than painting, in Icarus’s mind. He does bury his face in the flowers then, and the next time Apollo speaks, he can hear the smirk.

“I look forward to capturing your body. On canvas.” 

Icarus groans into the flowers, and jumps a little as he feels Apollo’s fingers on his jaw, lifting his chin. His face is totally red now, probably, and Apollo’s wearing that look he gets when he knows he just sent a swirl of chaos into Icarus’s brain. 

“A very pretty picture. Ah, but hold still… you have a smudge of dirt, from the flowers…” Apollo runs his thumb over a possibly-invisible spot of dirt on Icarus’s cheek, smiling at him.

“Ohh!”

A delighted-sounding cry from a few yards away makes them both turn. The old lady is beaming at them from where she’s passing through with paper and ribbons for the bouquets. “Icarus! Is this your boyfriend?”

Apollo easily rests his hand on Icarus’s shoulder, near the curve where it meets his neck. Icarus can feel the heat from his hand through his shirt and flinches when he feels Apollo’s thumb lightly caress the side of his neck. It’s not fair that he’s doing this when Icarus’s hands are full!

“Indeed. My name is Apollo. It’s a pleasure to meet you, madam.” Apollo’s voice is smooth and polite and the woman is charmed at once.

“Oh, how wonderful-Leroy! Leroy, come here, and meet Icarus’s young man!”

The old man shuffles out from the office. “You don’t say! And aren’t you a handsome devil. Icarus, you sly dog, why didn’t you say you had a boyfriend?”

“Uh-uhm, y-yeah, it’s… mostly true…” Icarus mumbles.

The old lady is beside herself with delight. “You should stop by more often, dear! We’d love to have you, I’m sure I can bring in more snacks to share.”

“I’d enjoy that,” Apollo says, shifting his hand down to Icarus’s arm, giving him a sideways hug while leaning down to give him a light kiss on the temple.

Icarus fights the urge to pray for lightning to strike him on the spot – such prayers, given ironically with a millennial flair for morbid drama, have taken a new significance these days.


	3. The Third Time: Dog Walking

“Dog walking?” people ask, incredulously, and yes, Icarus wouldn’t have guessed it either. But he charges $15 dollar per walk, takes anywhere from 5-7 dogs out a couple times a day, most days of the week, and it reliably nets him $400 or more every week. Plus, far and away, it’s his most fun job. Originally, he’d only replied to a few ads asking for dog walkers, because he loves dogs and he figured he could use it to make sure he get exercise daily.

Now, it’s probably the best part of his day. The dogs are great, always happy to see him; he gets out in the fresh air for at least an hour a day, and he doesn’t even have to feel guilty about enjoying himself: he’s getting paid to do it!

It’s a Monday, just after lunch, and Icarus is taking Simon & Rosie (two fat Dalmatians), Oatmeal (some kind of pit bull mix), and Cutie Pie (a corgi) through the park on the south end of the university. The dogs are all excited to be outside, and stop to sniff interesting things and/or bark at them, when abruptly all four go still and tense.

Something huge crashes through the trees – at least two, maybe three stories high, black as night. 

The dogs panic in a flurry of barking and running, tangling a bewildered and frightened Icarus in the leashes.

When the commotion stops, Simon and Rosie are cowering behind Icarus; Oatmeal is cowering next to Icarus, sort of half-growling, half-whimpering; and Cute Pie is in front, snarling ferociously at… an enormous, three-headed dog, who is looking down at them with a combination of imperiousness and curiosity, except for the third head, which has pricked its ears at a nearby squirrel.

A leash extends down from the neck(s) of this beastly dog, and at the end of the leash… Helios. Of course.

“I-I might have guessed it would be you,” Icarus says, only stammering a little as his heart hammers inside his chest. 

“Heya, Mop-Head!” Helios greets him, waving cheerfully. “I saw you’re a really big fan of dogs, so I stole Cerberus for you, from Hades!” He preens. “Pretty great boyfriend, right?”

Icarus stares, wide-eyed. “That’s… Cerberus? The Guardian of the Underworld?”

“Yup!”

“Then… who’s guarding Hades?”

There’s a slight pause, hardly noticeable but telling nonetheless, before Helios grins and waves his hand dismissively. “Pfft. Not important. It’s not like that many people are trying to break in or out anymore these days, y’know?”

Icarus knows he should object, knows he should say something disapproving… but, the truth is, he is impressed. 

“That’s really him? Like, really Cerberus?”

He tries to take a step closer and stumbles; the dogs have entangled him badly in the leashes. Helios notices and his grin widens, a little wickedly.

“Oh-ho, I see you’re all tied up at the moment, eh? Hmm. What to do about that.”

Icarus tries a little harder to untangle himself. “Behave yourself, Helios!”

“Now why should I do that?” Helios has sauntered over to where Icarus is standing, trapped in place, and runs his fingers over Icarus’s neck.

Icarus jerks his hands up to swat Helios away, but can’t, as he’s still holding on to the ends of the leashes and they’re wrapped around his legs. “H-Helios, cut it out!” he protests, scrunching up his shoulders protectively and fighting off a blush or laughter. 

“No way! You’re really cute like this,” Helios looks far too pleased as he does it again, tracing lightly over Icarus’s collar bone this time, prompting an embarrassing squeaky noise from Icarus.

“Helios- shit-!” Icarus stumbles again and this time falls over. Helios catches him in a totally unnecessarily dramatic pose.

“Romantic! I like it!” Helios’s eyes are crinkled in amusement and he leans over, making kissy noises into Icarus’s neck.

Icarus does start laughing then and drops the leashes from his hand to push Helios’s head away. “You jerk! You’re so annoying!” he tries to scold.

“Aw, c’mon, Icarus! I surprise you at work with a great dog for your collection, catch you when you fall, and you can’t even reward your awesome boyfriend with a little smooch?”

“I only fell because of you in the first place -and you stole that dog, isn’t Hades gonna be mad-?” Icarus squawks as Helios squeezes his hips teasingly.

“Smooch smooch smooooch! C’mon, you can give me one little kiss!”

Icarus snickers again and falls back in defeat. “One little kiss. One!”

“Unless you beg for more,” comes the rejoinder with a grin.

Helios leans forward and presses a kiss to Icarus’s cheek. The gods are surprisingly chaste at times, choosing so far to only to kiss him on the cheeks, the forehead, the neck… his hands… Icarus would be lying if he said that they didn’t manage to make a kiss on the cheek feel pretty intimate anyway.

After his kiss, Helios rests his forehead on Icarus’s, and smiles. “You look so damn cute when you’re blushing, Mop-Head.”

Icarus blushes harder. “I’m not-“

“You totally are blushing! It’s soooooo cute! It makes me want to kiss you more!”

After a moment of laughter and a few sneaky tickles from Helios and some more-or-less-earnest fighting from Icarus, he suddenly looks up. 

His four dogs are still there, sitting a few feet away and watching them with doggy looks of embarrassment on their faces.

But…

“Uh… where did Cerberus go?”

“!!! Ahhhhh shit!”


	4. The Fourth Time: The Library

The library doesn’t actually pay, per se, but if he volunteers a given number of hours, it does give him vouchers for select items purchased at the campus shops – class supplies, food and other sundries. Icarus did the math and determined that the value of the vouchers was nearly as good as actual money, with the added benefit of the convenient location where he could stop by between classes easily and rack up hours for the week. 

And it’s fairly peaceful work. Running the checkout desk; entering returned books into the computer; shelving books; light cleaning. And Icarus is free to do some of his own homework as well, as long as he gets the list of tasks done, while still earning credit for being there. Hard to complain about it.

He enjoys the tasks, and enjoys the hush of the narrow aisles, packed with books on either side, higher than his head. They have a good section on aviation: old and new books; practical and philosophical; aeronautical and astronautical. Icarus likes to sneak back to steal a few browse through them whenever he can.

Icarus is on his way back to the front counter with two books in hand, when he hears a yelp of surprise, two feet to his left, where there are a couple small steps leading up to the study carrels and tables. 

He whips his head around and has enough time to register a mass of bright red hair, on a figure that is falling, armloads of books already dropping around them. Icarus drops his own books and just barely manages to catch the figure before they bite the floor hard.

The figure is a woman, as it turns out – Icarus’s hands are wrapped around her torso, narrowly missing an accidental feelski. The woman is gorgeous, the mounds of red hair tousled from her stumble, and bright green eyes wide with alarm.

Icarus helps her upright again. She stands a little taller than him and has guns to rival Linda Hamilton, he notices. The green eyes turn to him and narrow just slightly.

“Jeez – are you all right? Did you turn your ankle? I’m sorry about that, those steps are the most pointless safety hazard in this building, I seriously see people trip over them hourly. Are you hurt, though? Do you need to sit down? Or I can get somebody. Or a glass of water, or something?” Icarus is aware that he’s babbling a little, but now that the woman is standing tall with the stance of someone who does not suffer bullshit lightly, and considering him with those fierce green eyes – it’s a little intimidating, okay?! 

But thankfully, the frantic babbling must have worked, because the green eyes soften and a faint smile touches her lips. 

“I’m all right. Thank you for asking.” She seems bemused by the concern, and amused as well.

He grins, relieved, and awkwardly sticks out his hand. “Glad to hear it! I’m Icarus,” he says, inwardly cursing himself for being such a huge fucking dork, but now that the danger is over he’s not sure how he’s supposed to proceed.

The woman meets his awkwardness with a queenly grace, shaking his hand. “My name is Athena. I’m grateful for your assistance. I don’t often need it,” she adds, as an afterthought.

“I can tell. Uh. You seem like a very capable lady.” Icarus is not very eloquent today, apparently, and decides to stoop and help her gather her books instead. There are tons; seriously, why would she carry this many all at once? It would surely be easier to bring them a few at a time?

She chuckles to herself. “You risked your life, just to spare me from indignity. I don’t often see that these days.” 

Risked his life? A little excessive… well, maybe. There were a lot of huge, heavy books to get smushed under. Icarus is even more impressed by the lady’s strength, that she could carry so many of them - 

All at once it hits him. Athena, she’d said her name was. Was she… *that* Athena? She had to be! That’s why she had so many books! Nervous again, Icarus glanced over at the possible goddess.

Athena is crouched next to him now. She fixes her hair, in a brief, utilitarian gesture, revealing a side-shave, before she also begins gathering her books again. The books are nearly all printed in the letters of ancient Greek, even though he’s sure this library doesn’t carry that language – yeah, it’s *that* Athena, all right.

She smiles at him, which helps him relax slightly. “You said you see people come up against these stairs hourly – you must spend a lot of time here?” Her books are stacking effortlessly in her hands, tall and heavy. “I’m a little biased, but I think people who spend more of their time in libraries are cooler to be around.”

Icarus blushes a little and grins, pleased. “Well, I can’t take that compliment completely – I work here too, but yeah, I love spending my free time here when I can. They’ve got a great aviation collection.”

Athena pauses, her hand near one of his fallen books – both of which, of course, are about rockets and aviation and astronautical engineering. “You can only be Icarus,” she says softly, before looking at him with recognition in her eyes. “Am I right? The mortal the two sun idiots keep bickering over?”

“I… they bicker over me… like, there, too? In – in Olympia?” It’s strange to say that sentence aloud. All parts of it. Apollo and Helios: acknowledging that they’re in some competition to gain his affections, which is crazy. It’s also crazy to acknowledge that they’re immortals from another realm of existence. 

“All the time,” she assures him, eyes twinkling. “It’s a pleasure to meet you at last, Icarus.” They carry the books over to the table where she’s set up camp. Another strange thing: a tiny, seriously adorable little tabby kitten, black stripes on brown fur, is batting pencils off the table. It goes without saying that the cat shouldn’t be in here. Literally, it goes without saying – Icarus isn’t going to mention it.

“So, uh… who’s this little guy?” is all he says, unable to keep from reaching out to pet the kitten. It pounces on his hand.

“She,” Athena corrects. “This is Nike.” She says this matter-of-factly, and Icarus can’t remember if Nike was supposed to be a god or if she really named her cat after a shoe or something.

“Can I ask what you’re researching here? You’ve got a lot of books,” Icarus says politely, as Nike shreds the cuff of his shirt.

“Oh, a little bit of everything,” Athena says brightly. “I couldn’t decide which project I wanted to work on today, so I brought all the books over – though, I was leaning towards toreutics.”

“Toreutics? That’s… the study of artistic metal?” Icarus has been stocking shelves in the library for a while now; he can’t believe he remembers that title from a book.

Athena claps her hands together and beams at him. “Right! It’s not my usual area of focus – I generally dealt with womens’ crafts, and toreutics would have been Hephaestus’ area – but of course, nowadays, women are much more able to create anything they please. As they should have been from the beginning.” She sniffs; clearly this has been a sore point for her for centuries. 

Icarus smiles. “For sure. I took a shop class a few years ago… one of the girls there was better than anyone else.”

“You don’t look like much of a metalsmith sort of guy.”

He shrugs sheepishly. “Nah. I mean, I was curious, so I tried it out. Never know when I’ll find something new that I’ll enjoy learning… but yeah, I’m kind of a one-obsession sort of guy. I guess – I guess you already what that is,” he says, gesturing to the aviation books on the table. “Though I also follow cynology pretty closely,” he says with a grin. 

“The study of dogs,” she laughs. “Yes, I heard about Cerberus. Oh, but you know –“ she begins digging in her bag, laid on the table and also filled with books. “Here’s one you might find interesting.”

She removes and sets aside random books – more than should fit in her bag – about the most random assortment of topics, all with slips of paper printed with notes in Greek letters. After a moment she says “Aha!” triumphantly and presents Icarus with a slim hardcover book. As he takes it, the Greek letters transform into English:

“Heliology with Special Focus on Helioseismology,” he reads. He looks up at her. “I guess – the study of the sun?” He can’t quite keep a blush off his face. 

Athena looks amused. “Yes. And helioseismology is the study of the interior of the sun, as ascertained by studying its surface.” She says that with a faint tease to her voice, and Icarus clears his throat.

“’Heliology’ I guess they got the name from Helios?”

“Right. The original sun god.”

“Original doesn’t mean best,” comes a familiar voice unexpectedly from directly behind Icarus. Icarus jumps approximately ten feet into the air with a startled gasp, and whips around to see Apollo coolly glaring at Athena.

“Oh, hello, Apollo. I didn’t see you there.” Athena smiles at him. “And of course, original doesn’t mean best. Just that he was first. And he’s been doing it the longest.”

“Ahh, you mean the way that Hephaestus, God of Crafts, was born earlier than you? Legend says he was the one who helped you spring from Our Father’s divine skull,” Apollo suggests sweetly.

“He was first? But wasn’t Hera the third wife…?” Icarus asks tentatively, mostly to himself, trying to remember. Of course, from what he remembers of Zeus, the matter of who he was married to when he had his children was irrelevant. Case in point: Apollo himself, child of an illicit affair, and one who is currently leveling a glare at Icarus.

Icarus swiftly holds up his hands placatingly, trying to think of how to backpedal. Athena looks smug. 

“Yes. I am the firstborn of Our Father, Lord Zeus, and the original Goddess of Crafts, as well as the original Goddess of Knowledge, for that matter.”

Apollo, the second-generation god of the sun and knowledge, glowers. Nike the cat is wiggling its butt while staring up at Apollo; clearly ready to try to jump for his temptingly swaying locks of hair. Icarus has a feeling that wouldn’t end well for the cat.

He intervenes, shooing Nike away and taking Apollo’s hand in his own. “I know I’m biased, and I don’t know what makes a better God or Goddess of Knowledge, but I do know which one is my favorite – even though I’m really glad to have met you, Athena!”

Icarus smiles up at Apollo, and is shocked to see that the sun god is blushing. Blushing!! Discreetly, of course, and looking no less stoic than usual, but yes, his face is definitely heating up.

Athena has made a little squealing gasp and is grinning at them, eyes darting back and forth between them. “Is Lord Apollo… blushing?! Like a besotted schoolboy! Oh, wait until I tell Artemis!” She laughs, and any tension from before is broken. “All right, that’s cute. I’ll forgive the disrespect from both of you.”

“Erhm. Yes. Thank you for your loyalty, Icarus.” Apollo coughs embarrassedly but doesn’t drop Icarus’ hand. “But really, Icarus, we’ll have to address your etiquette in dealing with gods. Choosing someone else over Athena is exactly how Troy happened.”

Athena waves her hand. “We’ve all come a long way since then, Apollo; it’s all water under the shattered bridge of your humiliating defeat. Anyway, Icarus is your lover, I’d hardly expect him to choose otherwise. The really interesting thing would be to see who he picks out of the sun gods courting him.”

They both turn to look at him, and Icarus has just enough time to feel his heart stop, when the bell dings at the front counter, indicating that someone wants to check out the book, and he flees in a red-faced panic while the gods’ laughter follows him.


	5. The Fifth Time: Big-Box Retail

And yup, there’s also the retail job. Another soul-sucking position as stocker, cashier and general drudge; but it’s a consistent paycheck that he can’t turn down. 

It’s at a regional supercenter store, with groceries as well as departments for housing goods. The place thrives off of desperate college kids to keep its business running; the management cheerfully denies promotions or pay increases on the premise that the students’ schedules will only change next semester, so there’s no use in investing in them for more than menial labor. Icarus keeps applying for a position as a third-shift stocker, where customer service is minimal and you get overnight pay, but it’s a competitive position. Lots of applicants.

But he gets lucky one weekend, and he’s called to help cover a shift because one of their regular guys is “in court again,” which Icarus chooses to interpret as meaning jury duty. But, great news! He looks forward to three shifts of mindlessly stocking shelves and racks, for slightly better than his usual pay, and with no (or at least, very few) customers to bother him.

“It’s not that great,” explains Amelia, the shift lead, when he comes in almost skipping in delight to be there. Amelia is a gruff lumberjack sort of lady (lumberjane?), with a tattoo of Ruby on one arm and Sapphire on the other (Icarus wonders if Garnet is tattooed somewhere in the middle but it seems impolite to ask).

“It’s really hard to coordinate time to hang out with your friends and family on this shift. Or get stuff done out in town. Your sleep schedule is all messed up, and you have to take Vitamin D pills, which naturally isn’t covered on insurance,” she goes on, as they drag out two pallets of dry groceries to restock.

“I’ll trade you jobs,” Icarus offers. “We can talk to Mark on Monday and do an even swap, day shift for night shift.”

“Pfft! Nope, not that desperate,” she grins at him.

Night shift is everything Icarus hoped for. They companionably stock shelves and chat occasionally. Shenanigans abound on night shift, as the workers have learned by now that the video monitoring is solely concerned with theft during these hours, rather than professional behavior, as there aren’t many customers to impress. The workers joke and chat and it’s like heaven. Icarus would buy industrial-sized containers of Vitamin D if that’s the price of this kind of peace.

Of course, the peace doesn’t last too long. 

A guy comes in around 1am… someone that looks… familiar to Icarus. He’s got blue hair, a cap with wings printed on the sides, and possibly the most hideous clothes Icarus has ever seen in his life, which is what tugs on his memory. He has definitely seen this guy wearing a similarly outlandish outfit somewhere before. On campus, maybe? He can’t remember. 

The guy wanders around a little bit, occasionally putting clothes and accessories into his basket that match his aesthetic of “random, ugly and colorful.” Icarus tries to ignore the red flags going up in his brain and carries on stocking. He’s in the household goods section, stacking a few novelty coffee mugs, when the inevitable happens and the guy approaches him.

“Icarus, right?” comes the voice, inquisitive and bright. Icarus flinches and turns. Blue-haired guy is watching him from a few feet away, peering through the ugliest sunglasses Icarus has ever seen. There’s a small smile on the guy’s face, and that’s what finally clues him in, where he’s seen him before. He’d been talking to Helios, once, near the alley where he’d first run into the sun god. He’d been smiling then, too – actually, Icarus gets the distinct impression that this guy is probably always quietly laughing to himself, at a joke that only he gets.

“Uh – yeah, that’s me. Icarus. Do you… know me?” he asks, a little uneasily. He’s not sure what to expect, here. Sure, his gods (is it all right to call them that?) seem to be generally positive towards him, but if more gods start showing up….

“Sure do! Apollo and Helios talk a lot about you. The rest of us are starting to get curious.” The guy’s smile deepens a little and Icarus is sure there’s some secret joke there. “I’m Hermes. Everyone’s favorite.” He winks at Icarus, who returns the smile nervously.

Hermes appears to notice the mug still in Icarus’ hand all at once, and lights up. “Oh, that looks great! Let me have that!”

Icarus looks at it. The novelty mug is hideous. It’s a model of the ancient view of the world: a turtle forms the base, with four elephants as pillars on top of it (apparently you’re supposed to keep cookies or something in there?) and then the flat earth, which is a saucer for the actual mug which is on top of the whole mess. “This? Uh, yeah, here you go.” 

Hermes beams at him and places the monstrosity in his basket. Icarus discreetly peeks inside: among other things, he can see lavender hot pants, and a pastel-colored sleeveless shirt with a Peter Pan collar and large printed donuts covering the material. God, is he really planning to go out in public wearing – oh. No, there’s worse. He sees a pair of… rhinestone-covered clunky-heeled boots on roller skates. Does this store even sell those?

He blinks at the sight and gestures weakly at the wall of novelty mugs behind him, as *Hermes* admires his find (How is this Icarus’ life now?). “Uh – well, H-hermes, I guess – I would have thought you’d like this one more?” The mug he’s pointing at is simple, and comparatively non-ugly: it’s white, and the handle is made to look like wings, and the words “Speed Limit: ∞” are printed on the front. “You’re the fastest god… right?” He asks, suddenly anxious that maybe he’s remembering wrong and he’s about to offend one of the gods, but Hermes only grins.

“Yup. Objectively true,” he says, plucking this mug and putting it in his basket also. 

The sound of hushed whispering and muffled giggles reaches them, and they turn to see Amelia and Joey (the tiny-framed red-headed girl who works in grocery most of the time) watching them from the end of the aise.

“Is this your boyfriend, Icarus?” Joey sounds breathless, probably squeeing internally. Joey does that a lot.

“Oh. I thought you’d be the twink,” Amelia observes with a grin.

“Ah-ha. That’ll bring him down here,” Hermes says softly with a chuckle.

Icarus goes crimson and starts waving his hands. “Nononono, we’re not – I’ve never met this guy before today! We’re definitely not dating!”

“Damn right you’re not!” Icarus tries hard not to groan at the familiar voice as it floats down the aisle towards them. 

Helios scowls mightily at all of them (eyes glowing where only Icarus and Hermes can see them) and drapes himself very possessively across Icarus. “I’m the boyfriend, here!” he jabs his thumb at himself before giving Icarus an aggressively demonstrative kiss and cuddle.

Both girls look impressed and make suitable aww-ing noises (Amelia also mumbles something unintelligible about a three-twink scenario). A couple other employees are wandering over to see what’s going on.

“Well, one of them, anyway,” Hermes notes cheerfully, earning another death glare from Helios.

“The best boyfriend,” Helios asserts, latching on to Icarus with fierce jealousy. “What are you doing here, anyway, brat?”

Hermes holds his hands up in a universal ‘Who, me?’ gesture. “Just here shopping! No harm, Helios! Icarus was just recommending a product to me – ah, here it is – ” he holds the winged mug aloft. “Since I’m the fastest of us. Winner of every race and so on.”

This proves to be a sufficient distraction from his jealousy, as Helios bristles at this clear challenge. “You cheated in that race! Everyone knows you did! Your stupid floppy sandals wouldn’t have stood a chance against my chariot!” 

Hermes hums a little and shrugs. “I mean, except for when I totally did win.”

Helios steams and detaches one hand from latching onto Icarus, in order to point accusationally at Hermes. “Cheated! You probably rigged the whole thing!”

“You up for another challenge? For the right to drink from this mug?”

“Ohmygod,” says Joey, eyes lighting up; “We can settle this. Supermarket Sweep!”

“NO WAY,” Icarus attempts to protest, but he’s drowned out by cheers of approval and shouted challenges from the two gods.

It’s only after several display stands have been knocked over, and the store aisles look like a hurricane blew threw, and Apollo has come down to yell at Helios for missing a solar event that was supposed to be visible in the Western European Time Zone, and Hermes wins the contest and has held his prize mug aloft in triumph and Helios is consoled by everyone (including Hermes) that at least he still has the cutest boyfriend… only after all this, that it occurs to Icarus that Hermes absolutely didn’t pay for that mug.

The mug turns up as missing on the inventory that week, along with a few random items, all unrelated to each other except for the fact that they’re all aesthetic failures. 

The video feed for that weekend shows nothing but footage of all the workers doing their jobs innocently. None of the employees says a word about the contest, but Icarus get winks from them all for months afterwards.


	6. The One Time They Didn't: Planetarium

And then there’s the volunteer work he does at the observatory/planetarium. 

It’s not paid, so he shouldn’t be doing it. It’s not even related to his intended field of aerospace engineering, so he really shouldn’t be prioritizing it, not when there’s so many other things he should be doing with his time. 

But it was at the planetarium here in the city where Icarus first felt the longing. Sitting in the battered reclining chairs as a child and hearing the narrated voice describe the constellations, the basics of planetary movements, the progression of human understanding of the cosmos… he’d felt it instantly. An overpowering urge to be there, to go up beyond the sky, up into space…

Even now, even knowing what he knows, he still feels that longing. It still drives him every day. Sometimes, when he’s cleaning after-hours, he sneaks into the exact seat he sat in over a decade and a half ago, and remembers that feeling. He feels sometimes like he’s repaying a karmic debt to this place by serving it now, in menial unpaid volunteer work.

And aside from the nostalgia, Icarus argues to himself that there’s no real harm in getting some space-related experience. After all, it’s not like there’s a lot of opportunities to volunteer at some kind of aerospace engineering, not until he’s much further along in his degree….

…Until, suddenly, an opportunity does come along.

————-

In spite of how Icarus is always complaining, modern life isn’t any harder than it used to be for a mortal. In many ways, it’s easier than Icarus can ever appreciate. He isn’t likely to starve to death; the cheap, disgusting ramen noodles are cheap and disgusting, but they’re food and they’re available for almost nothing. He isn’t likely to be eaten by a wild animal, or die of a curable disease before he turns thirty. 

But it is a lot more complicated, and that’s what’s currently irritating Helios and Apollo.

There’s a program advertised as seeking applicants from the observatory where Icarus spends his time. The program involves two weeks spent in a learning camp at a spacecraft design company. There’s a recruiter who will be visiting this observatory soon, to talk up the program and seek attendees. Icarus, naturally, wants this desperately.

Back in the old days, if a god wanted to favor a mortal, it was simple. The god would just make it so. The god desired that a favored mortal attended special training? They would simply visit the person in charge of that place and tell them to expect Icarus in a month’s time. Make a godly decree and move on. Certainly, there were often problems later, when the mortal abused the gift or if a rival god got angry about it, but as far as giving the gift in the first place… it was simple, and considered the god’s right. 

Well, that doesn’t mean anything now, in this time and this place. No godly decrees. Simply calling NASA and telling them they have a candidate, produces unsatisfactory answers. In spite of his advanced interest and knowledge of the field, Icarus has insufficient formal training to catch the eye of the program representatives. He needs a sponsor of influence to connect him with the programs, and he additionally needs money to be able to attend.

Coming up with a windfall of money for the extra programs turned out to be easy, all things considered, since Plutus is an amiable enough lad and open to negotiations. Helios, with his domain of Sight, agrees to provide vision to the blind god of good fortune. There could be some minor consequences to this, but it’s Helios’ domain and his call if he wants someone to be unblind, so they’re ready should any objections arise. Luckily there’s historical precedent – perhaps the only time Apollo’s ever been grateful for that lout Orion.

Finding the sponsor is far more difficult. They would need to seek out the correct person, with the correct connection to the correct program, and then convince that person that Icarus is the right man for the position, and then concoct some way to get the money to Icarus by way of this person…. When Apollo casts his gaze ahead to see how it could all pan out, the sheer quantity of glamours and threats involved give him a headache.

Easier by far, and more natural, to simply be the person of influence.

——————

Helios can’t quite believe Apollo was willing to go along with this scheme; but whatever Apollo saw when he looked to the future of using completely legitimate means, was enough to make him assent to the plan.

It’s something of a win-win for Helios: if it works, then they got Icarus into this elite program. If it doesn’t work, Helios still gets to see Apollo wearing a really stupid disguise.

Naturally, the God of Too Much Dignity had objected to the disguise, but Helios had reasonably pointed out that glamours always work better if there are tangible elements to sort of ‘cement’ the look. So, the appearance of a foreign scientist who happens to be at the observatory while the recruiter is present, is cemented with a large hat and glasses and a fake mustache, and a Dutch accent to complement the name of “Dr. Kleinezon.”

(Apollo, not trusting Helios’ word for some reason, had consulted other second-generation gods, with dubious results:

Athena: “I suppose it couldn’t hurt…”

Aphrodite: “It makes you look so handsome and distinguished!”

Hephaestus: “Uh….. sure?”

Artemis: “I mean, it takes your natural nerdiness and amplifies it by like, 6 million… that’s what you’re aiming for, right?”

Ares: “I don’t fuckin’ care.”

Dionysus: “You’re Apollo under that mustache?! Shit! That disguise really works!”

Hermes: “YOU NEED TO WEAR IT. DO IT FOR ME. DO IT FOR ALL OF US.”)

So there he goes – Apollo, a.k.a. Dr. Kleinezon, who has caught the elbow of the visiting recruiter for the training program, and is steering him in the direction of Icarus, who is doing something stupid and menial like polishing knobs or whatever. The idea is that Apollo will discreetly lead the conversation so that Icarus can impress the program guy with his levels of nerdiness, and then offer an application for the costs through Dr. Kleinezon’s own charitable scholarship program, the “Plutus Space Exploration Fund.” Apollo’s identity is hidden behind the Dr. Kleinezon appearance, so Icarus will never know. 

Apollo is better at charming and manipulating mortals than Helios, who generally prefers a direct approach. Not to mention that Helios can’t possibly bluff his way through a conversation on how this nerdy human shit works. So Apollo’s taken the lead on this little project. Helios’ contribution is to stay out of sight and make sure nothing happens while Icarus is wowing the program guy, so they won’t be interrupted.

Naturally, shit starts to go wrong immediately, almost as soon as their conversation starts.

Helios has just enough time to watch as Dr. Kleinezon calls Icarus over, to start asking the impressive questions, before the first irritation comes up. He’d stolen one of the planetarium’s t-shirts from the souvenir store – it serves as a uniform for the volunteers, and his idea was that he could intercept anybody before they could bother Icarus. Shouldn’t have been a problem, right? All the kid does when he’s here is clean shit! Take out trash and sweep. Helios’ big plan was to just tell everyone that Icarus would ‘get right on that.’ A cinch.

This works well enough for five minutes or so.

Some lady in a planetarium shirt spots Icarus and heads over to him. Helios intercepts. Success!

“Oh – are you working today too, dear?” the lady asks, looking a little puzzled.

“Aha, yeah! I love cleaning messes for free, so I signed right up!” Helios still hasn’t fully grasped why a person would want to do this.

The lady’s brow furrows faintly but then clears as Helios silently nudges a charm her way. “Well, you’re in luck, then, because the men’s bathroom seems to be flooding.”

“Icarus will get right on it,” Helios assures her.

They stare at each other a moment, before the lady clears her throat. “It… probably can’t wait. Maybe you could look into it yourself? Or, well, I was going to ask Icarus, but since you like cleaning messes so much…?”

Helios glances over at Icarus and Apollo. Apollo’s netted the recruiter and ‘accidentally’ fallen into a conversation with Icarus; the kid’s speaking animatedly now. Dammit.

Helios turns grudgingly towards the bathrooms. “Yeah… yeah, I do.”

The water situation definitely can’t wait. Helios actually splashes when he walks in; he wrinkles his nose in disgust, but the water seems to be running steadily from a pipe below the sinks, rather than the toilets, so there’s that. 

Helios considers. He could dry the water up – he’s the sun, after all! – but drying it up instantly would require a level of heat that would surely be noticed, and drying it up slowly would, well, take too long. Plus this wouldn’t solve the problem of the leaky pipe in the first place. And Helios sure as fuck doesn’t know how to fix human plumbing systems.

He scowls, trying to come up with a solution, and gives up after about twenty seconds of hard thought.

“Poseidon!!”

He has enough time to kick sullenly at the pool of water before he hears the reply.

“Hmm… would I be correct to assume that you didn’t call me here for a talk or visit.”

Poseidon is looking around with mild curiosity. He, too, is standing ankle-deep in water, but as usual the cheating jerk has made it so that it doesn’t leave him soaked. 

Also as usual, the nerd is wearing a horse-themed shirt – a simple v-neck with a drawing of a happy horse, with the word “Hay!” underneath.

“I always love talking to you, Poseidon,” Helios says, more-or-less not completely dishonestly. “But uh, yeah. I have a Situation here.”

“You realize that I’m the god of the ocean, right? Not flooded bathrooms?”

Helios groans. “You have mastery of ALL water, man – cmon, give me a break! I need this water gone and I can’t dry it up myself without nuking the whole neighborhood!”

“I don’t always keep up on human inventions,” Poseidon says thoughtfully. “It’s really more Hephaestus’ or Athena’s circle of interest. But I’ve heard tell of some device created… I think it’s called… a mop?” He taps his chin as though he can’t quite remember. What a dick.

“Ouranos’ balls! You know I don’t know how to use that!”

“I know you don’t want to.”

“Same thing – look, c’mon, it’s for Icarus!”

“Icarus is your boyfriend, not mine.” Poseidon is watching him with that smug fucking face, he always makes that face when he knows he’s about to win something great.

Helios scowls as hard as he can – but Poseidon is a guy who spent most of his existence squaring off against the likes of Zeus and Athena, and it’s pretty hard to intimidate him. He only raises his eyebrows now. Helios slumps his shoulders in defeat.

“Fine, fine! I’ll owe you, okay?”

Poseidon smiles. He makes a gesture and the water is gone. The god of the sea turns to the pipes. 

“And just because I love the Grandpa of Olympus so much, I’ll even fix the leak so you won’t have to owe me another favor in twenty minutes,” he says. “A freebie. On the house.”

“Great,” Helios grits out, holding back any annoyed sarcasm because he IS doing a favor, he supposes. He guesses he should just be grateful that it isn’t Hermes he owes the favor to. “Thanks.. a lot. I gotta go now and see whatever other ways this stupid human building is falling to shambles.”

“This building is a sort of modern shrine to you and the other celestial gods, isn’t it? You should be kinder,” Poseidon chides, squatting to inspect the pipes.

That’s… kind of true, isn’t it? Inasmuch as this human society has shrines or temples to them anymore, this would probably be one. A place where the mortals go to learn about space and the celestial bodies… They even offer sacrifices of a sort, by spending money on donations to keeping the place going, or funding research… and the vast majority of ‘worshippers’ aren’t here for any practical purpose, just out of interest and love.

Feeling slightly chastised, he trudges back out into the main lobby, and is immediately beset by another harried-looking mortal, this one a cute, slightly chubby-looking man with dark skin and a round, pleasant face. He’s surrounded by a small mob of children, maybe seven or eight years old. Helios has a sinking feeling.

“Are you Icarus? I’m Mr. Martin; we’re here for the ten o’clock tour!”

“Oh… yeah…” he says unenthusiastically, regarding the children with suspicion. Helios doesn’t care for children much – too noisy and messy and chaotic, always whining, always wanting attention… just too different from Helios himself, really.

Mr. Martin beams at him. “Great! Kids, show Mr. Icarus how excited we are to LEARN today!” The kids all duly cheer and shout, jumping around with unnecessary vigor. Great.

“Okay, kids, please follow Mr. Icarus – I’m going to go and make sure we’re signed up for the special Lunch with the Stars show!… I’ll catch you up in just a moment, Icarus, as soon as I get that form signed.” 

Helios attempts to keep the annoyance off his face as Mr. Martin heads off in the direction of the information desk – it’s right near the bathrooms. Helios really, really hopes that Poseidon doesn’t notice the cute teacher and try to seduce him; Helios doesn’t want to be stuck with these brats any longer than he has to be.

“Your hair looks like my hair does in the morning but Daddy makes me brush it,” one of the brats informs him, immediately confirming his fears.

“My hair looks like it was styled by a god because it was,” he snarls back. This makes all of them laugh delightedly; he’ll never understand why kids seem to be drawn to him. 

He casts a longing glance at the real Icarus, who appears to be writing something down on a notebook while the recruiter makes noises that suggest he’s impressed. Helios strains to see; his vision, of course, is flawless, but the only thing to see on the paper is a lot of numbers and angles and crap. What a fucking nerd.

He sighs and heads over to the Hall of Constellations, which is pretty much what it sounds like – a long hall that features framed posters of the constellations. He can at least speak to this, it’s just stories. And since he doesn’t work during the day, he’s had a long time to look at the stars at his leisure.

“Okay, so, uh… looks like we got… Orion. He used to be blind, but a really cool and generous Titan fixed his eyes so he could see. That Titan was Helios, and everyone agrees he was the best. Helios also used to hang out with Herakles – ”

“You mean Hercules,” says one brat.

“I said Herakles, kid, and that’s what I meant.”

“Disney made a movie called Hercules. He’s a hero who’s best friend is a goat-man and a flying horse and his dad is Zeus and his mom is Hera and he fell in love with Meg and fought giants and Hades,” the brat insists.

Helios briefly winces and looks around to see if Hera herself has arrived to address the question of exactly whose son Herakles was; but luckily, she seems to have missed the blasphemy. Holy shit, those guys at Disney are lucky to be alive after that one.

“…Yeah, whatever. Let’s, uh, let’s move on.” Half the kids are singing “Zero to Hero” and dancing; Helios does nothing to try to rein them in. “Okay, Centaurus. Chiron! Half man, half horse – everyone loves this guy. Really smart. He taught pretty much any hero you’ve heard about. He’s actually Apollo’s uncle but Apollo raised him like a son. I call him “Cuz,” since he’s mmmmyyyyHelios’ cousin. And Helios is…?” 

“The coolest Titan!” the kids chorus. 

“Right! And here’s Aquarius. That’s Ganymede. He’s Aquarius because he’s the cupbearer and pours all the gods’ drinks at councils and parties and stuff. Real sweet guy. Zeus’ boyfriend; he’s still head-over-heels for him even today.”

“Isn’t Zeus married to Hera?” one of the kids wants to know. “They were married right?”

“Uh……………yeah. Um, look, Draco! Dragon! You kids like dragons, right?” Helios is starting to sweat a little. Where the hell is Mr. Martin?! “Draco, that’s one of those dragons Ares picked up from somewhere. It’s still around, making trouble, just like Ares himself. Ares loves those stupid flying snakes.”

“My friend Jamie in Class 1B says dragons aren’t real.”

Helios scoffs. “I suppose your friend Jamie also thinks harpies, manticores and chimera weren’t real too? Pfft. Send Jamie my way so I can kick his ass.”

The kids go into an excited flurry of talk about that. Helios isn’t doing so bad! He moves on to Perseus. 

“Man, did you guys get this story wrong. Perseus and.. yup, there’s Andromeda over there. They were… I think you might say they were each other’s, uh, ‘beard?’ you know that word? Ask your parents. Anyway, Medusa and Andromeda went on to have a really nice relationship and Perseus was basically Hermes’ favorite boyfriend ever. That’s why he made the constellation, to memorialize him. Perseus is a nice guy, kind of a dork but pretty badass as far as mortals go, and maybe the only person ever, who never falls for Hermes’ shit. It’s amazing because Hermes is one wily little fucker.”

“Daddy says that’s a bad word,” says one little kid, eyes huge.

“She’s not wrong, but sometimes a bad word is still the word you want to use, you know?”

“You said a lot of bad words!”

“Yeah, well, those were the best words to use, so – ”

“How about… if I take over from here,” suggests a new (adult) voice. Helios looks around to see – Athena, wearing her best Librarian Chic outfit and a slightly-too-wide smile. 

“Oh – uh, Athena, hey. What’re you doing here?” Helios asks, considerably more relaxed with the goddess of wisdom than he was with Poseidon. Athena has her flaws, but she’d never dream of creating a fuss in a nerd center. 

“Hermes has been live-streaming this… effort, of yours, on Olympr. He came to record Apollo’s efforts first – there’s already a meme started – but after Icarus took over the conversation, he wandered over to see what you were doing with these children. Most of the audience is very entertained but I was horrified and came at once to save the children’s education,” Athena answers in ancient Greek, before turning to the kids and grinning brightly, while leaning down.

“Mr. Icarus has to run to help out at the gift shop, but my name is Ms. Athena and I can take you on the rest of your tour! You guys look pretty smart; but do any of you know how to tell time using just the stars?”

Well, it’s not sex and violence, but she seems to have caught their attention. Helios doesn’t ask the questions burning on his tongue, but takes the opportunity to shuffle away from all the brats. Shit, though - Hermes is here, somewhere?! Recording this?? For an audience??

As though on cue, he hears a stifled giggle and whips his head around to see a flash of blue, vanishing out of sight around a corner. Eyes narrowing, he pursues back to the main lobby – and stops dead in his tracks at the sight.

“Oh, thank god!” One of the volunteers waves at him frantically. She’s headed towards the gift shop, where an impossibly long line has formed. “Frank had a family emergency and had to go – we need you on the register until Mannie gets here!”

Shit. “Oh… okay…” Helios says, not moving yet, watching as the volunteer hurries away. Run a register? He has no idea how that complicated science fiction gizmo works.

“Hmmm,” comes a voice at his shoulder.

“No,” Helios snarls.

“This seems like…”

“Absolutely not!”

“…the sort of situation…”

“I said no, dammit!”

“… where a god of merchants…”

“Get lost, you little monster!”

“…might come in handy.” Hermes is there, wearing the planetarium’s t-shirt, wearing the most pleasant and kindly smile on his face. Butter wouldn’t melt in that mouth.

“You’re recording all this?? You shithead! No! I don’t need your help!”

“Oh! Well, all right,” Hermes says with a smile and a wink. 

Helios waits, on edge. “…Right,” he says with deep suspicion. “You… agreed pretty fast.”

“Well, it’s your call! I’m only surprised, is all. I thought you liked Icarus,” Hermes says, inspecting his nails.

“Not that it’s any of your business!”

“So I guess you’ll go to that register, and totally fuck up the sales because you barely know how to count to ten let alone manage money… and let Icarus take the hit for the massive errors in money.” Hermes’ voice is so light and casual, he may as well be discussing his plans to get an ice cream cone on a walk in the park.

Helios is gritting his teeth and can feel his face heating up to the point where it probably could dry up any flooded bathrooms on the whole block.

Hermes’ one visible eye scrunches up at the corner in amusement. “Why drag it out? Just go ahead and ask, Grandpa Helios! I’m kind of an expert at commerce.”

“……………Will you………. Help me with the cash register………..” Helios spits out.

“Hmmmm?”

Helios closes his eyes and curses Hermes, Apollo, even Hyperion for siring Helios in the first place. “I’ll….. I’ll owe you one.” He can imagine the delighted gasp of the gods watching this on Olympr.

Helios grins brightly, and his voice takes that tone of ominous cheerfulness that’s unique to him: “You got it! A favor given, a favor owed!” 

He waits long enough to catch Helios’ defiant middle finger, and then zips off to run the till as promised. Taking a deep breath, Helios looks around for Icarus and Apollo – they’re nowhere to be seen. 

Shoulders slumping, Helios slouches off to the back room to hide there until it’s all over, and try not to think about what terrible things Poseidon and Hermes are gonna make him do – Hermes! That’s a basic survival skill in Olympus, never owe Hermes anything!

There’s one final surprise waiting for him as he opens the door – the back entrance to the building is wide open, and he’s apparently stumbled upon three of the unluckiest thieves in the world. Wearing ski masks and heavy jackets, they’re hauling boxes of expensive equipment out the back door into a waiting truck and freeze at the sight of him.

Helios heaves a sigh of relief. “Finally!!” he exclaims, cracking his knuckles. “A problem I can deal with myself!”

————-

Hermes wears many hats, but of course, he’s known most famously for being the messenger of the gods. He doesn’t typically deal with the mortal postage system but as the god of heraldry, he can if he wants. It is his domain, after all.

So when he’s aware of the message being sent to Icarus, notifying him of his acceptance into the program, Hermes does two celebratory flips in the air – mostly because he’s glad for Icarus himself. The kid deserves this break, and Hermes is confident he’ll learn a lot from it.

But he’s genuinely pleased as well that Apollo’s and Helios’ gambit paid off. Hermes had the time of his life watching the two of them embarrass themselves (and the memes are never gonna die from that – Apollo’s fake mustache and Helios threatening to kick a seven-year-old’s ass). But they humiliated themselves willingly, for the sole purpose of trying to give Icarus the lift he needed. That’s something they would never have entertained for a moment, back in the old days, and Hermes is overjoyed for his friends.

For now, he hurries to get a congratulations card signed by all the gods, so that he can have it delivered at the same time as Icarus’ letter.


End file.
